


The Queen of Carven Stone

by QueenUndertheBloodyMountain



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Again spoilers, Battle of Five Armies, Canonical Character Death, F/M, Major character death - Freeform, Reader-Insert, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-18
Updated: 2014-06-18
Packaged: 2018-02-05 01:09:11
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 901
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1799920
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueenUndertheBloodyMountain/pseuds/QueenUndertheBloodyMountain
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>No beta, my mistakes are my own. I only own the original character, I don't own you, and I obviously don't own anyone from the Hobbit. I am so very, very sorry.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Queen of Carven Stone

You hadn’t seen him in months. When he had departed for the quest, all he left you with was a kiss, a bead, and a promise. You spent your time training hard and hammering out your frustrations and crippling fears in the forge, too wound up to socialize like you normally would, and too afraid to try and seek out news of him and his company. Dìs was hardly any better, fretting around her home, cleaning it so often that it practically gleamed like polished glass. Her work at the tailor’s was just as frantic, as if she always had wargs snapping at her heels. You were both afraid for them, both too terrified to admit your fears, even to each other. But you saw it there, in each other’s eyes; even if Dìs did not approve of your affections towards her brother, you both were the closest one another had that could even begin to understanding the torment you were suffering without them. 

#### ~

When the call came to march on Erebor, you were one of the first to join the ranks; let anyone try and tell you, you should not go, you’d rip any dwarf's throat out that dared to try and stop you.

The journey to the Lonely Mountain was hard; the battle was harder.

Sweat rolled down your face as you cut another orc down, an additional replacing it almost instantly. It was as if you were fighting the very hoards of Mordor, and you were already weary, you weren’t sure how much more you could handle. Blood, dirt, and sweat streaked your face, the sweat yours, the blood a mixture you weren’t even sure of anymore. You were never more thankful you couldn’t grow a beard. A good chunk of your hair was missing now, cut from your long plait by a stray sword or axe blade from only Mahal knew where. You dealt with this Orc, and then another, and finally, _finally_ you saw him, looking the King you always knew he was capable of. Slaying orc and goblin filth left, right, and center, his heirs bravely fighting at his side. They were fierce and beautiful on the battlefield. True Kings, as was their birthrights.

The first blow came as a shock to everyone, it felt as if the entire battlefield collectively held it’s breath; the second strike had you screaming. You barely felt the goblin blade slice through your cheek and down your chest as you parried on instinct, pushing it away from your carotid artery. Your feet were running as quick as they could carry you on your tired legs, muscles straining and burning to push you further, faster, pushing you towards him. You would not let him fall!

Countless orcs and goblins fell to your blades, even a warg or two, weren’t sure, nor did you care. You cut down a final monstrosity and reached him, collapsing at your King’s side, sobs wracking your entire frame. You gripped his hand hard, enough to most likely hurt the both of you but you couldn't feel it. Shock and fear were written on his face, he had not expected you to come to battle, the fool. You would fight the Makers themselves to be here with him and he damn well knew it. Your other hand tried to stop the bleeding, but there were too many wounds to press and, deep down, you knew it would be pointless. Your eyes fell on his heirs, his beloved nephews, together in death as they always were in life, they looked as if they were asleep, not gone from this world, as you knew them to be. Fresh chokes ripped from your body, your face turning back to your One, your love and world. He smiled sadly, free hand gently stroking the side of your face and you pressed your forehead to his, anguish and defeat settling into your heart.

“Âzyungâl."

#### ~

Their tombs were sealed and your body was drained from your despair and grieving, your heart and soul felt like they had been shattered, ground into the finest dust, your eyes blank and unfeeling. You had survived the battle with hardly any physical damage, but the emotional more than made up for the lack of tangible wounds. Your name was called; you slowly looked up and saw your new sister carrying your daughter, Thorin’s child; his eyes looked back at you from her face. She reached for you and you lifted her into your arms easily and automatically, feeling her face press into your neck, fresh tears welling up and her small body shaking with the loss of her father. The line of Durin was strong; it would survive still.

“Lady Dìs, my Queen, might I escort you all inside?”

You both nodded to Balin, each of you too pained to speak just yet; the Queen of Erebor and her princesses slowly made their way into the Lonely Mountain, leaving their loved ones to be protected in her tombs. Stone profiles carved depicting her rightful King and his young heirs and princes, guarding them in sleep.

And the Queen beneath the mountain had come into her home. The Queen of carven stone. Her daughter a strong reminder of what she had lost, and an even more powerful one of what she still had to live for. Her One was not gone, not while her daughter remained.

~ **FIN** ~ 

**Author's Note:**

> If it makes anyone feel better I'm 110% done with myself. This is my very first fanfiction ever so I hope I didn't screw up too badly.


End file.
